Worth The Wait
by pussycatwithattitude
Summary: As that time of the year arrives, Anna reminisces on birthdays past and present and knows in her heart that now, in 1922, she has all that she has ever wished for and more.


**A/N: **Nothing but fluff, really. Set in 1922, the summer after the Christmas Special. If I had my way, Bates family fluff is all we would have next series, but I doubt Mr Fellowes would grant us that much. Dedication to _TestShip _who has far too many exams at the moment, I hope you like it when you get a chance to read. I'd like to take this opportunity as well to thank everyone for the response to _Piano Man_, it meant a lot to hear what you all thought.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_, no matter how much I'd like to. Anything you recognise will belong to Julian Fellowes, ITV and Carnival.

* * *

**Worth The Wait, **by _pussycatwithattitude_

Anna Bates had spent three birthdays as Mrs Anna Bates in her lifetime, two of which were spent without her husband. The first she had received a surprising gift from John, and upon visiting him again at the prison, she had discovered that he had sent a letter to Lady Mary, asking as to whether she could purchase something on his behalf, and that he would settle matters of expense with her at a later date. The gift had been beautiful – the prettiest gift she had received in her lifetime – a small, golden locket that Lady Mary, upon relaying the information to her curious maid, had told her Bates had evidently had his eye on for some time. Inside, upon his release fourteen months later, she had ensured she had a photograph of both of them to place inside it. It was one of her most valuable possessions. On her second birthday without John, she had received a beautiful copy of Shakespeare's sonnets, something she had enjoyed reading with her husband in those quiet years where they had sat at in the servants' hall until the small hours of the morning, reading softly surrounded by the dying candlelight. She had spent many a night reading the sonnets again, remembering the way her husband had read them to her, and how she had bashfully read to him despite him knowing that she preferred his voice in accompaniment to the beautiful selection of words.

Her third birthday had been special, however.

The thirteenth of June 1921 had been a day that Anna May Bates would never likely forget in the remaining years of her life.

Her husband had surprised her by announcing at luncheon that their half day would be today, and that they would be able to spend it together. He had evidently gone to Mr Carson, Mrs Hughes, His Lordship and Lady Mary to enquire about the afternoon, and it warmed her heart that he had gone to trouble in doing so. She remembered her heart lifting at the prospect of an afternoon alone with her husband, imagining the possibilities of the afternoon ahead. He had surprised her with a lovely picnic with all of her favourite foods – Mrs Patmore had evidently helped in his planning – and they had walked to one of her favourite spots in the grounds. Their walk along the little river had been peaceful, and the constant of his hand wrapped around hers as they walked was a comforting feeling to Anna, and one that she would never take for granted, even all of these months after her husband had been released. They had set up their picnic beside the small river and beneath the shelter of one of the large oak trees and she had teased him as he pulled out treat after treat.

John had pulled her gift out of his pocket, carefully wrapped. Anna had smiled and thanked him for the beautiful copy of E.M Forster's _A Room with a View_, explaining that she had always wanted to read it yet had never found it in His Lordship's library. As she had placed it by her side, she had revealed she had a gift for him too.

His face had been a picture, and he had revealed his confusion, informing her that since it was _her _birthday, _he _should not be receiving a gift. Anna had simply shook her head and reached into her small purse where she had carefully wrapped and placed it earlier upon their brief return to the cottage.

She had handed him the gift, kneeling as she watched him eagerly, and he had opened it slowly, his face the perfect picture of confusion. His brow furrowed as he continued to open the gift, and Anna could see his face further contort, mystified at the surprise gift.

Her husband had pulled the gift from its wrapper and enquired as to why he should want a silver rattle. But then realisation dawned upon him, and Anna had to stifle her laughter as his face straightened and his eyes found hers. He had searched her eyes for confirmation and she had nodded happily, tears in her eyes.

John had stuttered and had reached forward, placing a hand lightly on her stomach. Anna had responded that she had seen Doctor Clarkson yesterday morning, when she had conveniently disappeared into the village with Lady Mary on an errand. He had revealed she was three months gone. John had kissed her then, silencing her and sealing their future together as a family.

And now, on her fourth birthday as Mrs Anna May Bates, she lay in bed, letting the sun rays fall upon her face. It was a Sunday morning, one of the many Sunday mornings that meant she could spend just that little bit longer in bed before having to get up for the day, and it was also one of the few days that her husband could remain with her, having not be required at the house until the early afternoon. As she stretched lazily, her hand reached out to her husband's side of the bed, only to find an empty space. Frowning, she opened her eyes slowly and carefully, aware of the light that streamed through the crack in the curtains. It took her a moment to adjust, but after a couple of seconds she reached out and held her husband's pocket watch in her hand, flipping the lid to discover the time. When Anna saw it was not yet six, she groaned and flipped it shut again, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back upon the pillow.

It didn't take her long to fall back to sleep again.

However, what must have been an hour later, Anna felt herself waking up again. A familiar set of lips were peppering her face with kisses, and the smell of freshly made toast and eggs wafted her senses. But then she heard another sound, a small giggle, which caused her eyes to flicker open. She smiled as her eyes met those of her husband immediately upon awakening, and she was gifted with one of those beautiful smiles of his own.

"Good morning, my love."

John leaned down and captured his wife's lips in a kiss. His fingers reached to her soft, blonde hair, moving them through it and revelling in the feel of it. However, as their kiss deepened, Anna felt a familiar weight upon her legs, moving clumsily.

Breaking apart from their kiss, Anna looked down, only to come face to face with her little son whose eyes brightened and his mouth broke into a grin upon seeing his mother awake.

Little William lifted himself clumsily from his crawling position and sat on his mother's legs, clapping his hands together and giggling delightedly. He laughed even more as his mother gasped dramatically and reached to be held as Anna extended her arms to him.

"Hello, my darling," cooed Anna breathlessly, bringing her son close to her chest, wrapping him in her embrace. She turned to her husband. "How long did he sleep? I didn't hear him wake."

William had started to teeth last month, and since then had been waking a lot in the middle of the night, waking his parents during his painful fits. Sleep had been sporadic at best for John and Anna, although she often persuaded him to catch as much sleep as he could, considering he had to work during the day. John would often argue – and would sometimes win – when he said she needed just as much sleep; that she would be taking care of William throughout the entire day as well.

As John was about to respond, little William brought his hands up and squeezed his mother's cheeks, causing his father to laugh heartily and Anna to look down at her son, narrowing her eyes. William had recently discovered his own mobility, and this was beginning to keep both parents on their toes. Gone were the days of holding William all the time, although both John and Anna knew that the moment William had grasped hold of his mother's skirt and pulled himself up to stand for the first time was a very proud moment indeed. He had not grasped the ability to walk by himself yet, but his crawling was becoming much more skilled and he could stand up straight with some support from his parents.

"Over an hour ago, I'd say," John replied. "But we've been having some father-son time, haven't we, lad?" John took one of William's hands, his seven-month-old smiling brightly at the contact.

Anna smiled fondly at the moment between father and son, ecstatic that she had been able to provide John with a son. It had been one of her dreams to fulfil the wish that John had confided in her one night, years and years ago now, in the courtyard at Downton, and the birth of William just a week before Christmas Day had been the day that wish had been fulfilled.

"Anna?"

Anna shook her head and looked at her husband, suddenly aware that he must have been speaking to her. His response was to simply laugh at her ability to daydream.

"I was saying, we made you a birthday breakfast."

It was now that Anna suddenly remembered the smell that had assisted in her waking up, and she turned her head to see that a tray had been placed at the end of the bed. On it was a rack of toast, heat still rising from the top, a plate of scrambled eggs, two cups of tea and also little William's beaker.

"It looks delicious," Anna smiled. She turned to her husband. "Thank you."

"Happy birthday, Anna," John smiled, leaning across and closing the distance between their lips, although cautious of William's presence in Anna's arms.

"You didn't have to do this," Anna began as she took in the breakfast once more. "You know you rarely get the chance to sleep in."

John shook his head and let the pad of his thumb rest upon her lips before moving it across her lips to her cheek, stroking it gently. "You deserve it," John replied steely. "You deserve to be spoiled, and I promised myself long ago that I'd do everything in my power to do so. Continuing here, on your birthday…" Anna smiled, admitting defeat willingly as he closed the distance once more and kissed her. "Besides," John continued as he pulled himself away. "William thought it would be scandalous not to spoil his mother on her birthday."

"William told you that, did he?" Anna looked at him sceptically. William squealed excitedly in her arms upon hearing his name, moving his hand once more to her cheek. Anna then turned to face her son. "Have you been planning this with daddy? Have you?"

William cooed loudly in response, squeezing his mother's cheek before babbling happily.

"See," Bates pointed out. When his statement was met with silence, John smiled triumphantly and reached out to pull the tray towards them.

Anna watched fondly as John arranged her a plate of scrambled eggs and toast whilst simultaneously bouncing little William up and down, making him giggle excitedly. When John had finished arranging the plate he turned and smiled at his wife, before holding out his arms.

"Here, I'll take him while you eat."

Anna handed William over to his father, taking the plate afterwards and immediately beginning her meal.

Anna only had to take one look to her side to see the man she loved sat with their son, William's back against John as he held onto both of his father's hands. John eventually reached across for William's beaker which he had filled with some warm milk and handed it to his son, who was becoming accustomed to holding it himself, although he still needed a little support. As John helped his son drink the liquid, Anna watched them tenderly whilst eating her own breakfast. She could not help but smile at the concentration that swept across both of their faces.

"So what's the plan for today?" Anna asked eventually.

"Well, we thought we could go for a walk before church," answered John, supporting his son as he drank from his beaker. "William and I know how much you love a picnic."

"It seems you do," Anna smiled, and after a few minutes she took a final bite of her breakfast before announcing that she could not eat anything more, and that it had been delicious. Little William, upon seeing that his mother's hands were empty, decided to throw his beaker down and crawl across to her, settling himself across her lap.

"It's a good job he had finished that," Bates admonished, placing William's empty beaker back on the tray.

Anna ignored her husband momentarily and instead let her attentions focus solely on her son – her son who had taken after her in almost every aspect. Little William had the same blonde hair and blue eyes, the same nose and a very similar temperament to that of his mother. However, his jaw – despite still being very young – took after his father, and little William was already becoming not so little, which gave his parents the impression that he would take after his father in height. He was his mother's pride and joy, the light of her life, perhaps because she had never expected to become a mother after beginning her life in service at the age of fourteen. Whilst she had dreamt of a life with a handsome husband and a large family up until that age, Anna had found herself entirely focused on her work upon arrival at Downton Abbey, and this focus had transpired into her attaining the position of Head Housemaid after just four years of work there. It was only until a handsome valet had stepped through the back door without waiting to be let in that Anna's life had suddenly taken a sharp turn. Gone was the path she had expected to travel down for the rest of her life, and in its place a long and winding road, but one that she knew led to an end worth fighting for.

And to sit here, having breakfast in bed with her family had definitely been worth the fight. The fight for his affection, the fight for him to overcome his honour, the fight for a divorce, the fight against his wife, the fight against his unfair sentence, the fight against separation… They had overcome a lot since having first met ten years ago, but to hear William fall into a fit of giggles, followed by her husband's raucous laughter made it all worthwhile.

Anna watched her husband now. His eyes lit up as he interacted with his son, taking hold of one of his small hands and speaking with him in their own special language. Not many people would ever expect to see the stoic John Bates interacting in such a way with his child, but it was during these moments that Anna's heart melted and she fell in love with her husband all over again. As their love had grown over these past ten years, Anna had seen more and more of her husband unveiled, and it was here in their cottage that John felt completely free from restraints.

So far had Anna been immersed in her thoughts, she did not realise that her husband had averted his gaze from their son to rest upon her. As she caught his eyes, she shook herself from her reverie and smiled at him knowingly.

"William has something to give you," John spoke. He responded to Anna's confused expression with a light-hearted command, "Close your eyes."

Anna did as she was told, still holding onto her squealing son. She heard a rustling and then something brushed against her front, but when she was allowed to open her eyes, she realised that William was holding out a gift to her, having been wrapped in brown paper and string.

"Is this for me?" Anna asked her son. William cooed in response, pushing the gift into her chest before pulling on a cord that hung from her nightgown. Anna obliged and took the gift from her son, kissing his temple and smoothing his hair with her hand before moving that hand down so that she could open her present with both but still steady her son, her arm now around his waist.

Anna opened the present carefully, it was a thin package and she assumed it would tear easily. As she began to pull open the string, her husband watched happily whilst her son had put the white cord of her nightgown into his mouth, chewing on it contentedly.

Anna gasped happily as she eventually unfolded all of the wrapping. Inside sat a large picture that her son had drawn, although she assumed with a little bit of help. It was a picture of three stick people, stood together and holding hands. One stick person held a cane, another stick person had long, yellow hair and the other stick person was considerably smaller than the former two. Yes, her son had almost definitely had help with this, but that did not stop happy tears gathering in Anna's eyes. It was the first picture she had ever received from her son.

"It's beautiful," Anna whispered, fingering it with her free hand. She looked up at her husband. "Did you help him?"

"Mrs Hughes did," John answered her. "Lady Sybil had left her crayons in Mr Carson's pantry, the afternoon we, um…" His face turned crimson red, and Anna instantly remembered the afternoon when Mrs Hughes had offered to look after William to give them both some time to themselves. Needless to say, they had _definitely _spent some time together that afternoon, although they assumed not the type Mrs Hughes had been expecting. "… And apparently Will here became so immersed in them, she didn't have the heart to refuse him. So she helped him draw a picture."

Anna smiled at the little story, and then looked down at her picture once more. Now she recognised the hand that had written the words _Daddy_, _Mummy _and _William _on top of the three figures. A tear fell from her eye this time, and she made no attempt to wipe it away. Anna turned to her little boy, still absorbed in chewing the cord on his mother's nightgown, and kissed the top of his head, holding her to him tightly and praising him over and over again, repeating to William that he was mummy's clever, little boy.

It was one of the best gifts she had ever received.

* * *

Later that day, as John had promised her that morning, the Bates family took a walk and a small picnic to her favourite spot beside the river before the afternoon church service. It was a beautiful summer day, warm with a light breeze that caused any strands of her fallen hair to whip against the back of her neck. John had insisted on preparing their picnic, therefore Anna watched in delight as he lay their blanket down and began to pull out various, carefully prepared food.

They sat across from each other, eating their cheese sandwiches happily as little William crawled, and sometimes toddled with assistance, around them, making the most of his newfound ability to move. William was tugging at the blades of grass and bringing them to his father for approval, and John would smile, nod and praise his son.

"This was such a lovely idea," Anna spoke, smiling at the interaction between her husband and son. She leaned across and closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his briefly. "Thank you."

"It was the least I could do for your birthday," John responded. "If I had my way, I would be taking you to fine restaurants or to a show in London–"

Anna silenced him with a look. "Now you know how silly I'd feel having to use five different knives and forks."

John smiled at his wife's comment and instantly recognised defeat. They would sometimes have this argument, but he knew that when she looked at him in that kind of fashion, then to accept defeat now was better than to suffer the consequences later.

After a moment husband and wife conceded to societal conventions and John opened his arms for her to lean back against his chest. There was no one around at this time – everyone at the house would be either serving luncheon or eating it, and few would wander up here from the village – therefore John and Anna basked in the opportunity to embrace each other. Anna leant back against her husband's chest as his strong arms wrapped around her. As he brought his lips down to kiss her temple, Anna was reminded of the time he had first kissed her; the first time he had wrapped his arms around her in an embrace filled with love and devotion.

Their first _attempted _kiss had been disrupted, in the late night of a cool May, but their first proper kiss had come just under a year after the war had begun. Anna remembered the day in March well. The day she had received news of her brother's death at the front. He had been missing from the servants' hall that morning, tending to some matter of Lord Grantham's. Mr Carson had handed her the envelope and everyone had fallen silent around her. Everyone knew the emblem of the War Office. Anna's hands had shaken as she opened the envelope. Everyone's eyes had been on her, but she failed to notice, completely absorbed in the letter. She had read the words and had instantly felt bile rising up her throat. The room felt constricted. She had stood up and ran before anyone could say a word, although she was sure she heard whispers as soon as she left, all of them speculating as to who it could be. She had burst into the courtyard and fallen behind some of the stacked crates before she had let out a loud sob, clutching her stomach as she slid helplessly down the wall. Someone must have said something to Mr Bates as he returned from upstairs, because he soon came outside to her. Anna was never sure of how long she had been sat there, a crumpled mess on the floor, but according to John it had not been long at all. He had carefully lifted her to her feet, let his hand rest on her shoulder and had silently implored as to the reason for her tears. He must have known something, of course he had, but he wanted to hear it from her. He wanted to hear it from her, and he knew she needed to say it herself.

She had remained surprisingly calm as she told him. It was amazing how much of a calming influence his hand on her arm could be. He had expressed his condolences before Mrs Hughes came to the back door and announced that the two of them were required upstairs. Her gaze was almost apologetic, but it was clear that nothing could be done about it. He promised that they would meet here later that night.

And they did. When everyone was in bed, John and Anna met outside in their usual place and he listened as she told him all about Daniel Smith, her younger brother. He had looked like her. Whilst only he and Anna had taken after their mother in their physical features, their three younger sisters had taken after their father. He would have taken over the farm one day. He had always been fond of this one girl back at home. Anna had always teased him about Charlotte.

John had listened as she had told him all about her brother, and all during that time he was sat impossibly close to her, their arms and knees brushing. Anna had started to cry a little later, when the prospect of the funeral came to mind. She had attended three funerals in her life, her father, her grandfather and her little sister, Elizabeth, who had died when only two years old. Anna had been nine at the time. With a shaking hand she had attempted to wipe her tears away, alas to no avail. John had pulled her into his side, whispering words of comfort as his chin rested atop of her blonde curls. When Anna had lifted her head, he had brushed away a few remaining tears with his thumb. Then he was kissing her softly. It was more of a caress than a kiss, really. But it was their first kiss, and it had also been his promise to love and protect her.

"What are you thinking about?"

Anna smiled as he drew her from her reverie and shifted further into his embrace. She murmured, "You."

"Nice thoughts, I hope."

Anna pretended to contemplate it for a moment, earning herself a series of digs in her sides, causing her to laugh out loud.

She turned her head to look up at him. "Our first kiss."

John smiled in remembrance and kissed her forehead affectionately. No more words were needed as Anna settled back in his arms. They sat in silence, watching the proof of their love crawl slowly around and across the picnic blanket, picking at flowers and blades of grass.

"We may have to head back soon," John sighed after a little longer, having glanced at his pocket watch. "I need to be up at the house for one o'clock."

Anna groaned lightly and burrowed herself further into his arms. John chuckled.

"What time will you be home tonight?"

"I'm not certain," John sighed. "Hopefully not too late. I still need to give you my gift."

Anna turned her head once more and raised an eyebrow. "John, you know you didn't have to–"

He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her.

"I know, but you'll love it," John leant down and kissed her lips. "Trust me."

* * *

They had arrived back at the cottage not long after twelve, and John had immediately gone to their bedroom to get appropriately dressed. Anna had made them a cup of tea while he had been upstairs, but after one cup he had left for work. This had left Anna alone with her son for a couple of hours until the afternoon service, and she had planned on using this time to tidy the cottage. However, upon entering their sitting room, she found it to be completely spotless. Anna frowned as she remembered the state it had been in just last night – William's crawling antics had left the room in quite a state. It was then that Anna realised her husband must have tidied it this morning.

Anna turned to look at her son who was lying flat on his stomach on the rug, grinning widely up at her. "What's your daddy been up to?"

Anna looked at William conspiringly but had then admitted defeat, dropping to the floor and beginning to play with her son.

She had enquired about the tidy sitting room later that afternoon when she had seen her husband at church. John had simply smiled and told her that she deserved to rest today. Anna had rolled her eyes, and if they weren't in such a public place, she would have slapped his arm.

Anna was alone with William for the rest of the afternoon, then. John would not be home until later and there were no chores to complete around the cottage. Deciding to take her husband's advice and relax, she made a pot of tea and some warm milk for William, placed it all on a tray and brought it through to the sitting room. William sat with his mother on their sofa, suckling contentedly on the edge of his beaker as Anna drank her tea and began a new book. It had been a while since she had read _The Secret Garden_. The last time had probably been with John in the servants' hall one night. Anna read some to herself and, when William was being particularly affectionate and climbing all over her, some out loud.

William started to become particularly drowsy at around five o'clock and had fallen asleep by six. Anna prepared him for bed, staying to watch him sleep for a while, finding comfort in the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, before deciding to run herself a bath as she waited. The hot water proved to be relaxing against her and she bathed her skin in the scents that she rarely used but knew that John loved.

Anna changed into her nightgown and decided to stay in bed. She would often wait up for John in bed, and one of his books was lying flat on his bedside table. Anna picked it up and smiled, turning the cover to see the title across the front, _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. John had probably read this one hundred times, but it didn't stop him reading it again.

Anna began to read the opening lines to herself, "_Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up the stick which our visitor had left behind him the night before_…" Anna continued to read, sifting through one chapter and then the next. She had always been a quick reader, and in the silence of the cottage, it was an easy task to complete. William woke up once during her reading, his teething still proving a problem at this late hour, but it did not take long for Anna to settle him. She had picked him up and rocked him in her arms, humming a tune and speaking words of reassurance until he had eventually fallen back to sleep. She had climbed back into bed afterwards and continued the book, and Anna's peace had not been disturbed again until her husband returned home.

It was a little after eleven at night when John returned home. He had hung his hat, coat and cane beside the front door and, upon inspecting the sitting room and finding it empty, had gone straight upstairs. Habit ensured that he checked on William quickly and, satisfied that his son was sleeping peacefully, he made his way to the master bedroom after that. The soft glow from beneath the door told John that Anna had waited up for him, or at least had tried to. Upon turning the door handle, John found the former to be correct.

"Hello," Anna spoke softly, placing the book to her side. She raised herself onto her knees as John crossed the room and leant in for a kiss. "How were things this afternoon?"

"The same as usual," he replied, sitting down on their bed and beginning to loosen his tie and collar. "Although one of the maids dropped a whole pile of linen earlier, you should have seen Mr Carson's face. It all had to be sent back to the laundry."

Anna smiled softly, her fingers dancing across the skin at the back of her husband's neck. "I remember doing something similar in my first few years. It was my first proper telling off. I remember turning bright red, and I rushed to take the linen back before anyone could see my face."

John chuckled, imagining a younger version of Anna being reprimanded by Mr Carson.

"Although Mrs Hughes spoke to me a little later on, and reassured me that accidents happen."

John smiled even more, acknowledging that the housekeeper must always have had a soft spot for Anna.

"You were always so–" John stopped and hissed in pleasure, feeling the familiar touch of Anna's lips caressing his neck and her nimble fingers helping him loosen the collar. He decided to tease her, "What are you doing?"

"I've missed you today," Anna whispered into his ear seductively, letting her lips trail from there to his cheek where she ran them across the stubble that had grown there today. She brought her hand to his chest and pressed down, urging him to lie flat on the bed, his legs still hanging from the side. Anna leant down and kissed his lips while simultaneously opening the buttons of his shirt.

"I can see that," John laughed, content to watch his wife as she undressed him. She had opened most of his buttons now and was kissing any of the exposed flesh. However, with a steely look of determination in his eyes, John stopped her. "But I do want to give you my gift before your birthday is over."

Anna instantly stopped in her ministrations and looked up at her husband, an eyebrow raised. John laughed at her expression but sat up nonetheless, reaching into the drawer of his bedside table and bringing out a carefully wrapped rectangular-sized package.

John sat back and turned to his left where Anna was knelt on the bed, towering just a little above him. He smiled softly and handed her the package, "Happy birthday, Anna."

Anna took the gift with a gracious smile and instantly began to pull the paper and string apart. When she had discarded of the wrapping, she noticed that it was a photograph frame. She was currently staring at the back so she eagerly turned it over, however the sight of the photograph that lay within the frame almost took her breath away. Anna instantly felt tears gather in her eyes as she looked at the photograph that had been taken of John, William and herself in Ripon just over a month ago. The photographer had positioned them so that John was sat, holding William in his arms, with Anna stood behind them both, her arm draped across the shoulder opposite to the side William was sat. She had not forgotten about the photograph, but it was the last thing she had expected for her birthday.

It was perfect.

"Do you like it?" John asked softly, bringing his hand up to brush the hair from her shoulder, exposing the skin that tingled beneath even the slightest of his touches.

"It's perfect," Anna replied tearfully, not able to take her eyes from it.

Eventually she did, and eventually she stood and turned to place it on her dressing table. It took pride of place already, that much was clear in the very precision in which it had been placed.

When Anna turned back, John had manoeuvred himself to sit completely on the bed. As soon as he smiled at her, she was across and kissing him, a kiss that symbolised all of her love, gratitude and devotion to him. John gathered her in his arms and moved them so that they were both lying side by side on the bed, their mouths still pressed together.

As Anna lay with her husband in the early hours of the morning, naked limbs tangled and pressing against the coolness of the bed sheets and listening to the steady rise and fall of his chest, Anna reminded herself of their struggles, but also of their happiness and their little family. She could hear her husband breathing, and in the next room she could faintly hear the soft whimpers of her little boy, whimpers that she would soon have to tend otherwise they would break into full cries. No, she would not change any of this. She would go through all of the pain of the past few years over again just to live in this moment; to enjoy more of these moments in the future. Yes, it had all been worth the wait.


End file.
